


Too Good To Let Go

by donniedont



Series: Memes & Melancholia [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Friendship, Gen, Trans Character, Trans Friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25367590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donniedont/pseuds/donniedont
Summary: Leonie wasn’t going to change the world slinging chicken wings at men while nodding as they talked about the league’s best running back or the leading division one basketball prospects.  She wasn’t some hero, because she was trans and working at a sports bar, entering a space on a regular basis she probably wouldn’t feel comfortable being in unless it was under very specific circumstances.Leonie is a commuter student working at a chain restaurant.  When a group of people begin to be weekly customers, she finds herself willingly getting caught up in their hijinks.  For the Fire Emblem Trans Week Day 3 prompt "Friendship."
Relationships: Leonie Pinelli & Claude von Riegan
Series: Memes & Melancholia [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605781
Comments: 13
Kudos: 46
Collections: Fire Emblem Trans Week 2020!





	Too Good To Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you SO MUCH to Eth for taking the time to read through this fic before I posted it. I was so nervous to write Leonie, but it felt right to have this be her story. 
> 
> Also, thank you Leo for organizing Fire Emblem Trans Week! This fic has been lurking in my prompt list for a long time and this was a perfect opportunity to return to this universe.
> 
> This fic is within the same universe as a dimiclaude fic I posted awhile back called "Would You Change This Time?" You do not need to read the first fic, as this is set before that one.

Leonie didn’t care if she liked her job or not. That wasn’t the point of having it. She only cared about things like being pleasant enough to the manager that she got a decent amount of shifts and coming off polite enough to the clientel in an attempt to get a bigger tip.

She wasn’t going to change the world slinging chicken wings at men while nodding as they talked about the league’s best running back or the leading division one basketball prospects. She wasn’t some hero, because she was trans and working at a sports bar, entering a space on a regular basis she probably wouldn’t feel comfortable being in unless it was under very specific circumstances.

It didn’t matter how she felt, because at the end of her shift, she was collecting money to get closer to her goal. She was making sure that she could afford the dingy basement apartment she called home and whatever left of her tuition she couldn’t get covered through financial aid and scholarships. 

It probably helped that if she lived in a world that she could go to a sports bar without consequence, she would probably go all the time. She couldn’t afford the elaborate cable package that the restaurant had, so there was some point in sitting around on a Sunday afternoon, watching football games and idly picking at fried pickles. She would probably roll her eyes as she ordered drinks that were themed around car puns. She would do it anyway, laughing as she remembered all the times she watched a teenager squirm as they said they wanted a Lubenade. 

But it was a ridiculous want. She didn’t even have friends at work that she could rationalize coming into work outside of her shift. There was no point in letting people in too close. She had a job to do and no, it wasn’t serious, but it had to be done.

Tuesdays were a consistent part of her schedule. It certainly didn’t bring in money like the weekends, but they did a cheap stunt of selling chicken wings for a quarter. It brought a variety of college students, which usually meant the tips ranged from pocket change to well above average. It was a chance that she had to take.

Leonie never knew how to feel about college students. They were typically overall obnoxious, rowdy boys who slammed their hands on the table, encouraging each other to take the Atomic Wing Challenge. She was always the professional, knowing exactly how to get them to reconsider attempting it by telling them that it’s too expensive totry if they failed and the TV displaying their names was never working correctly. It was the best way to prevent herself from having to put on the novelty hazmat suit she would be required to wear should a customer choose to attempt such an absurd feat.

Even then, Leonie couldn’t deny that there was a part of her that wished that her college experience was remotely like this. She was a commuter, her schedule typically being condensed to going to school, hiding in the library to do school work, going to her job and tossing plates of food at people until her feet ached. It was impossible to afford living on campus and while she was a bit older than most of the freshmen coming in, she couldn’t help but feel jealous that a lot of these people probably had their hands held through orientations, group activities, and friendships because they lived in a glorified, tiny bedroom with their peers.

Leonie gave a pair of guys their order, noticing the host bringing a party of six toward her area. She was given a heads up that a party under the name Claude was going to be coming in around that time. It wasn’t like she hadn’t handled groups this big before. 

She listened to them prattle about the scenery of their placement, which included a car suspended over their head, a motorbike seemingly crashing through plexiglass, and an arcade basketball game that was used far more than Leonie would ever assume.

It must have been their first time here.

She walked over toward the table, taking out her tablet and about to jump into her typical spiel until she allowed herself to look at them.

Leonie was used to a certain type of college student that would attend her establishment. They all blurred together at this point, wearing free T-shirts they got at school sanctioned events, gym shorts, and snapbacks they would refuse to take off.

This group was different. Their aesthetics were mismatched, the only things that unified them being little details like pronoun pins and bracelets made with embroidery floss that matched the colors of various pride flags. One of them, a girl with purple hair, already had her sketchbook out, quietly scratching out a figure drawing of the guy next to her, who had his dark hair tied back in a bun. A person with green hair was idly flipping through the menu, yawning. She wondered if they would be one of the few brave souls who ended up fast asleep at the table, a feat that Leonie was always surprised by. 

The other side of the table had a girl with long blond hair tied to one side. She smiled fondly at the scene. She was definitely the mom friend. At least she seemed okay with the arrangement. Next to her was a guy that could have probably blended in with the rest of the patrons, if it wasn’t for the bracelet featuring trans colors and the black eyepatch obscuring part of his face. And finally there was the person next to him, who thought that wearing a leather jacket and a seemingly expensive t-shirt was perfect for eating bar food.

Leonie felt anxiety begin to bubble in her chest. It was ridiculous. She had no need to feel this way. There was no need to fear judgment at a restaurant that called itself the Quaker Steak and Lube. They called their fanbase the Lubies, for fuck’s sake. Even then, she found herself fumbling with the cap of her pen, pressing too hard on the waitstaff pad in her hands.

She flashed a smile, even though she felt her throat tighten as she realized why. They looked like people she’d want to be friends with.

It was a strange sensation to have. She couldn’t remember most of the customers she interacted with. Many of them blurred together into amorphous categories of types of people like regulars, families visiting their kids at school, or family trying to afford a cheap meal they didn’t have to make. This wasn’t a bastion for people like her, especially trans people like her.

She swallowed, her throat aching as she attempted to tamp down the sentimentality. They had to have met at school. It was the only way that people like this could come together. It reminded her of the LGBTQ center she passed by often enough. She always wanted to go to 

the events, but they usually took place too late for her to rationalize lingering on campus. 

She finally gained enough composure to introduce herself, asking for drink orders. They seemed extraordinarily young, the girl with the sketchbook needing the guy with his hair pulled back to make the order for her. His harsh face made Leonie fear that he was going to be cruel about it, but he appeared relatively soft toward her, telling Leonie what she wanted without even having to turn back toward her to confirm.

The orders went easy enough, even though she got to the person in the leather jacket and realized she was being stared at. She pressed her lips, wondering if the table had figured out that she is trans. Most importantly, she wondered if she wanted them to figure it out. 

She would be terrified under normal circumstances. She wanted to pass enough to be safe, even if the performativity could be exhausting. Even then, she found herself wishing that there was a secret handshake or blinking pattern she could send the table to let them know that she was like them.

But there wasn’t one, at least not that she knew of. So she finished up getting their drink orders, the guy with the eye patch saying he was going to pay even though the person in the leather jacket groaned. This must have been some sort of weird competition between the two of them. She raised her eyebrows, but resumed going toward the back area, filling up cups with the appropriate drinks before she returned to them, passing them out.

They ordered their food with little issue, one or two stammering over some of the name choices for the meals. The girl with the sketchbook needed her order given again, but it was given a similar amount of understanding, which Leonie was grateful for. 

She was relieved that she had to leave to take the orders in. The tightness in her throat came back even more intense, forcing her to resort to drinking water in the back in an attempt to refocus herself. 

Leonie brought the cup of water to her forehead, taking a shaky breath. She couldn’t remember a time that she felt so carefree with people, let alone people who understood her. It had to have been when she was a kid. There was a guy who coached her baseball team when she was in elementary school that supported her. He didn’t question that her family couldn’t afford to bring snacks for the game, always making sure that he had them covered. But to have friends her age who accepted her seemed intangible. It certainly wasn’t going to happen when she was at work. It wasn’t like she was ever going to see them again.

So she served the right dishes, checked in on them twice, and did whatever was expected by her. She might have tossed some extra Twizzlers in with the check, but it was because they were polite, not because she was trying to send them a secret message through the gesture. She passed the check to the guy with the eye patch, even though the person in the leather jacket tried to snatch it at the last moment. Even though the person with the leather jacket was pouting about it afterwards, judging by the laughter at the table, it was hopefully some kind of playful conflict between the two of them.

Regardless of who paid the bill, she was happy with the tip. She said goodbye and thanked them when she left, trying to ignore that a part of her wished that there was some way to actually have a conversation with them.

*

Leonie was not prepared to see the same six people walk in next Tuesday. This time she was near the host stand, getting confirmation that the person with the leather jacket was Claude. She wasn’t certain what she was supposed to do with this information. She hated when patrons called her by her name, even though it was clearly displayed on her nametag. Why would she choose to use theirs? 

It was strange that even after one experience with the group, she had a pretty decent read on the habits of all of them. The purple haired girl needed her orders made. The green haired one always looked like they were on the verge of falling asleep. Leather jacket made flashy poses as they attempted to talk to the group. 

Leonie couldn’t help but tease them, asking them what brought them back another week. Claude just laughed and said, “We’re a big fan of the ambiance.”

Leonie couldn’t help but look around the room, the screens alternating between football games and sport highlight shows. Decorative tubes labeled with various hot sauces were bolted into the walls, set so high up she wasn’t certain if they were ever dusted.

She laughed. “It’s certainly unique,” she said, even though she was well aware that there were plenty of these across the country.

It was easier to deal with the way her throat caught or how her stomach fluttered the second time around. She was prepared to consider the interaction successfully professional, until she turned around and saw Claude flagging her into the other dining room. He was out of his leather jacket, but still wearing one of those needlessly nice looking shirts with the contrasting colors at the collar and at the hem of the sleeves. 

“Can I help you?” Leonie asked. She smirked, curious what he needed to ask. She wondered if it was someone’s birthday. She really hoped that wasn’t the case, if only because she didn’t want to have to sing some ridiculous song and inadvertently have every single person in the restaurant staring at all of them.

“Could I give you my card now?” Claude asked.

Leonie tilted her head. “What?”

“Can I give you my card for the bill now?” Claude asked. She was about to ask again, but Claude jumped in. “Look, even if you pass the bill to me, Dimitri is going to grab it. He may look sweet, but he’s not above putting that thing over his head so I can’t reach. So I need to think smarter, not harder.”

Leonie wasn’t certain if sweet was the first word that she would use to describe this Dimitri character, but she nodded anyway, knowing that he was still a customer and she couldn’t give her typical barbs. So she laughed, trying to ignore that several customers turned toward them. 

Claude’s face appeared unchanging and she covered her mouth. “Oh,” she finally said, bringing it down, “You’re being totally serious.”

“Absolutely,” Claude said, grinning at her as he slipped his hand in his back pocket. He pulled his wallet out, grabbing his credit card and bringing it toward her. “Now are you ready to be my accomplice?”

Leonie rolled her eyes, still making sure she was smiling in the process. “It keeps my job interesting,” she said, plucking the card from Claude’s hand.

Claude laughed, thanking her before he disappeared in the general direction of the bathroom. Leonie couldn’t help but stay in place, laughing hard enough that she had to cover her mouth again.

*

Leonie didn’t typically work Mondays, but she was texted in the morning asking to cover a shift. She wasn’t going to turn down the chance to make more money, hoping that people would show up to watch the Monday evening football game.

Of course, over the course of nearly five minutes she was planning on being at this post, the phone rang. She searched along the edge of the counter, relieved that someone had taped a piece of paper with the script on it. She grabbed it, making sure to put on her best customer service voice as she greeted whoever was on the other line.

“Hello,” a voice said, “I was wondering if I could make a reservation for six tomorrow night? We were hoping to be there for nine o’clock.”

Leonie said it was fine, the voice having something strangely familiar about it. She shook her head, trying her best to focus on writing down the information, smiling to herself before she said, “Of course! Can I get a name for the reservation?”

“Oh, could it be under my name? Dimitri.”

Leonie’s eyes widened. Well, that explained why she recognized his voice. This was definitely the same Dimitri that she had seen the past two Tuesdays. 

“Oh! You’re the group that comes in on Tuesdays,” she exclaimed, immediately regretting it. Her head felt briefly disconnected from her body and she hoped that her transgression could be buried under bad reception or some sort of distraction on his end.

Dimitri snorted softly before he said, “Yes, that’s us. My sincerest apologies for having you get caught in the crossfire between Claude and me. I assure you it is playful.”

“I never questioned it for a second,” she replied, though she found herself wondering why Claude was not making the call like he had the two weeks prior. 

“Oh, could I also make a request?” Dimitri asked.

Again, Leonie hoped it was nobody’s birthday. “Sure, of course,” Leonie replied.

“Could you please make sure that I get the check?” he asked. Leonie was about to make a snide comment about how he assumed she always worked there, but Dimitri quickly stammered, “Oh! If you’re here, of course! That was presumptuous of me to make such an assumption.”

Leonie snickered. “It’s all right. I get it,” she said, “I’m going to be there. See you all at nine o’clock.”

“Yes, see you. Thank you so much,” Dimitri replied.

They exchanged goodbyes, Leonie hanging up once she heard that Dimitri did. She shook her head, staring at the generic, plastic phone for a long moment. She found herself entirely surprised at his speaking style, which seemed to require him adding an extra three words to the simplest sentences. Even then, she began to realize why Claude would use a word like sweet when referring to him.

She rubbed her face, taking a deep breath. When did she get caught up in hijinks like this? She legitimately hated any mandated hijinks dictated by corporate, and here she was excited to see Claude’s face when she betrayed him this week. It was ridiculous.

It was exhilarating.

She brought her arms over her head and took a deep breath, hoping she could get her heart rate down before her coworker came back to their post.

*

Leonie had found herself thinking about her baseball coach a lot. She gravitated toward one memory in particular. They had won their first game and he invited everyone to go to the local ice cream parlor. She held her breath, relieved when he told the families that he was going to pay, Leonie jumping up and down when she realized that she was going to be able to attend.

Leonie walked with her team, quickly realizing that everyone had paired up. It made sense. Many of the kids knew each other outside of the team. They went to the same schools, were on other baseball teams, and took pitching lessons together. Leonie found herself alone, trailing behind the group.

Her coach decided to walk with her, his eyes carefully watching that his own child was paired up a few steps ahead. Leonie was somewhat surprised. She thought that if someone was going to choose between the two, surely they would select her. She was the one that actually talked, unlike his kid who just stared blankly as people spoke to them. And yet there they were, nodding their head as the person next to them spoke and Leonie dragging her heels as she stood next to her coach.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t think the team likes me very much,” she mumbled. She sniffed, but she knew better than to cry. The last thing she wanted to do was be a burden to anyone, especially her coach.

“Well, a lot of them know each other. I’m sure that can be a bit confusing,” he pointed out, “But just because they’re comfortable with each other, doesn’t mean that they won’t enjoy someone new in the group.”

The memory fizzled out after that point. In truth, she couldn’t even be certain that the memory even happened. She lost track of that coach long ago and it wasn’t like her family was around to witness it. 

She tried to find the meaning in it as she sat in her kitchenette. She ran her hand through her short orange hair, telling herself that she couldn’t impulsively chop at it. She was working too hard on growing it out to give into that thought, so she kept fluffing it up.

She wanted to be friends. She wasn’t even sure if they would reciprocate or find her too forward if she asked, but she wanted it. She grabbed her phone, checking the time to make sure that she still had some more time to push herself to go through with her grand idea.

This Tuesday she was going to try to make the figment of her baseball coach proud by allowing herself to participate. It felt ridiculous when she ran through the plan with herself, but it was something. 

The uniform policy dictated that there was only one item that she could wear outside of the company t-shirts. She could wear shirts from her university in some attempt to form some kind of camaraderie among the college students who frequented the place.

Luckily, she had one shirt. It was the only thing she allowed herself to buy in reaction to getting accepted to Garreg Mach University, a simple shirt in the school colors with GMU printed across it. 

She was holding out that one of them would spot the shirt and hopefully one of them would point it out. She could say she was a student and they could exchange pleasantries about seeing each other on campus. Then they could make clearer plans and she could bring herself into the group.

It required a lot of outside help, but it felt like it was the best plan she could come up with that didn’t include her doing something embarrassing like giving them her phone number. She was certainly not at a level of desperation that she was going to give her number to a man, even if it was for a purely platonic reason.

She drove into work, telling herself that if it didn’t work out, she couldn’t beat herself up over it. Maybe someday she would allow herself to wander campus, hoping that they could see each other under more serendipitous circumstances. For now, she was going to hold out that she wouldn’t have to resort for that. It was bad enough trying to find parking for the bare minimum amount of trips she had to make on campus throughout the week.

The party arrived on time, the host sitting them down before Leonie approached them. She made sure to keep her shirt as visible as possible, keeping her writing pad low enough that they could clearly see the school logo on it as she greeted them.

“You go to GMU, too?” Claude asked.

Leonie couldn’t help but beam at him, nodding her head. “Yeah, I’m a first year,” she said.

“Us, too!” Claude exclaimed. He turned to the blond girl and hastily added, “I mean, most of us. Mercedes is an upperclassman.”

Mercedes nodded. Leonie’s read of her being the mom friend was more correct than she’d realized. She didn’t have any malice with the observation. She couldn’t blame Mercedes for wanting to be surrounded by people who understood her.

“That’s really cool,” Leonie said, keeping her tone professional, “I commute, so unfortunately I am still figuring everything out.” She bit the inside of her lip, hopeful that she didn’t sound too desperate.

“Aw, we can give you any tips if you want them,” Claude said.

Leonie attempted to swallow her disappointment and flash another smile. “Oh, well! I would love to hear them!” she exclaimed, trying to deny that as kind as the gesture was, she wanted something more concrete. She cleared her throat, asking them for their drink orders and making sure she didn’t linger as she walked toward the kitchen.

This was ridiculous. Her hands shook as she attempted to fill cups of water and soda. She had goals that she had to focus on. As much as friendships had merit, they weren’t needed. The only things she had to do was go to school and go to work. Everything else was superfluous.

And yet when she left the kitchen and saw Claude crouched behind the false wall, his green eyes bright, she couldn’t deny that her stomach fluttered. She raised her finger, trying to subtly gesture toward the tray of drinks before she rushed toward his table. She passed out the drinks and set the tray away, finding Claude still waiting patiently against the wall. 

“You’re lucky this room is usually pretty empty,” she pointed out. She felt ridiculous talking down at a customer so she kneeled down with him. 

“I know. That’s why I picked the spot,” Claude said, “Everyone was engaged enough that I could disappear for a second.”

“Very sneaky,” Leonie noted. Under most circumstances, she would have despised whatever person would make her end up halfway on the floor of her place of work. But it was hard to deny that there was something magnetizing about Claude. There was something about his green eyes that truly felt like he was looking at her. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt that way. 

Claude slipped his hand in his back pocket, taking out his wallet. “I was wondering if you could take my card again?” he asked.

Leonie shook her head. “No can do,” she said, “I already promised Dimitri that I would pass him the bill when he called to make the reservation.”

Claude scrunched up his nose, muttering, “ _Damn_ ” quietly. He batted at the bead attached to the braid that was in front of his face, whispering, “That’s _good_.”

“Yeah, I found it clever, too,” Leonie said, “And I’m not a double agent.”

“Your loyalty will get you far,” Claude said ominously. He brought the bead of his braid between his fingers, rolling it. “So how are you liking GMU?” 

Leonie rolled her eyes, realizing that he was totally expecting this conversation to continue on the floor. “I’m liking it enough,” she said, “I mean, it has the classes I want and need. There’s not much to it.”

“So you aren’t in any clubs or anything?” Claude asked.

Leonie shook her head. “It gets too late for me. I don’t really have a dorm I can hang out at.”

Claude frowned. “I mean, if you need a place to crash, most of us live on the LGBTQ floor. It’s like… right by the liberal arts part of campus.”

Leonie laughed, unable to process the level of kindness that was just offered to her. “Oh, well. That’s really kind of you,” she said, “But I think you should probably talk to your friends before you offer up their rooms.”

“I mean, maybe,” Claude replied. 

Someone screamed at the TV and they both sighed in time. She wasn’t even sure what game was playing today. 

“Kind of a weird offer, but would you want to come back on campus with us? We were planning on watching a movie at Dimitri’s room, because he has a single.”

Leonie laughed. “I’m working until eleven,” she pointed out.

“Oh, that’s fine,” Claude said, “I mean, we don’t usually get out of here until around then, anyway.”

“Sounds good to me,” Leonie said, getting up and hoping that he couldn’t see the smile on her lips.

She continued through the service, staying level headed the entire time. Claude and everybody finished up their food and said they would wait in the parking lot, which was appreciated, if only because Leonie was able to complete her shift and concentrate.

As she added her shift to her time card, she held her breath, realizing that it was entirely possible that they had already left. But when she opened up the door, she was relieved, watching the six of them scattered across the parking lot. Some of them were exploring the photo op area, which featured cut outs that people could stick their faces in and look like chickens. Others were balancing along the curb. Claude spotted her quickly, running over toward her and saying hi. 

“Do you have a car?” Claude asked, “Mercedes has one, but we don’t even have enough space in the car for the six of us.”

“I have my own car,” Leonie said. She watched everybody form a circle around them and she gulped. “Uh, well, hey, everybody.”

They went through introductions. Leonie was ready for it to be stilted, but it wasn’t. They rattled off their names and pronouns as if it was a college orientation. She finally figured out the name of the people who weren’t Claude, Dimitri, or Mercedes. The green haired one’s name was Linhardt. Leonie worried that they were bored, but she was fairly certain that Linhardt was just always like this. The purple haired girl was Bernadetta. Her voice sounded fragile, nearly consumed by a nervous squeal, but she kept it together. The guy with the bun’s name was Felix. He seemed a bit standoffish, but she hoped that if he was with the group, he had to have some sort of merit.

“Uh, I know that we’re still getting to know each other, but would one of you want to drive with me?” she asked.

Everyone glanced at each other and Claude raised his hand. “I can do that,” he said. They split up, Leonie leading Claude to her car.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Leonie said once they got inside the car, “It’s not every day I meet…”

“Meet who?” Claude asked.

Leonie took a deep breath, starting the car. She gripped at the wheel, catching her own reflection in the dashboard mirror. She was relieved that her facial hair was light, even though she could see it begin to poke against her chin. If Claude noticed it, he didn’t say anything. “People…” she started. She pulled out of the spot, trying to find the right word. “...People I want to be friends with, I guess.”

Claude smirked. “Can’t say I’m used to someone who wants to willingly hang out with a bunch of trans people, but I don’t think I mind.” He leaned back on the chair, making sure to not raise his feet up from the floor. She appreciated the effort.

“I mean,” she said, “I’m trans, so…”

Claude nodded.

“Was it obvious or…” she started. She was relieved that she was driving and she couldn’t see his face.

“I mean,” he said, “We got the vibe. But it wasn’t like you weren’t passing or anything like that… it’s just… a hope, I guess? Not sure if that makes any sense to you, though.”

“It does!” Leonie exclaimed. She paused, realizing that she might have been too loud. “It does. I… I didn’t really know any trans people when I was in high school and it. It seems nice.”

“It is,” Claude agreed.

They were relatively quiet after that, Claude providing directions when she needed them. They found parking easily enough, meeting up with Mercedes’s group in the parking lot.

They entered the dorm together, Leonie taking in the sights. There was a desk set up at the door, a student sitting at it with a binder opened up. There was a room just behind them with a massive TV and couches set up, a few people sitting around with their laptops opened up.

“Do you have your ID on you?” Dimitri asked.

Leonie pulled herself away from people watching, turning toward him. “Oh, yeah,” she said. She wasn’t prepared for how tall he was when he was standing. She would hardly consider most of the group short, but his towering over everyone threw those observations off. She passed her driver’s license to the person at the desk and signed off that she was a visitor, Mercedes having to do the same. 

They took the stairs up to the next floor, Leonie finding herself distracted by the flyers that were attached to the walls. There were so many different events taking place in this building alone, Leonie wondering what she would do if she had the ability to go to them. There were safe sex seminars, movie nights, even work out sessions that she knew she would take advantage of if she could.

“Dimitri’s room is toward the end,” Claude told her.

“Wait, so I’m hosting?” Dimitri asked.

“Could I invite my roommate?” Linhardt asked. They glanced at Dimitri and said, “No, I’m not hosting.”

Dimitri sighed, but still mumbled, “Let me put sme stuff away. And yes, you can invite her. She is always welcome.”

Claude whispered, “We think Linhardt’s roommate might be coming out soon.” 

Leonie nodded. “Oh, is that so?” she asked.

“She just did the big hair chop,” Claude explained, “And… well, we’ll see.”

Leonie nodded again, wishing she understood what he meant. It made her wonder if she would ever understand things like that. This group might be her best chance.

Linhardt ducked out of the group, going to their room. They eventually rejoined the group with the person who was presumably their roommate, who stood with cropped blue hair. 

“Just give me a second,” Dimitri mumbled. He unlocked his door and slipped inside, eventually opening the door again. “All right, come in,” he said.

Leonie stepped inside. She was unsure as to what he was so worried about, the room looking relatively minimal, outside of what appeared to be some shirts poking out of the dresser and some pens scattered across his desk. 

“Sit anywhere you would like!” Dimitri said, taking a seat on his bed. Claude hopped next to him, loosely bringing his arm across Dimitri and bracing himself. Everyone else spread out, Leonie realizing that the best spot she could sit without being in anybody’s way was on the edge of the desk.

She leaned against the desk tentatively, waiting to see if anyone would take offense to it. When it looked like she was safe, she hopped onto it, relieved that no one said anything. 

There was idle conversation about what movie to watch, Leonie able to slowly piece together people’s personalities as they made suggestions. Claude was content watching things happen, unless someone made a suggestion he didn’t agree with. Bernadetta and Dimitri tended to suggest kid’s movies, citing that they were easy to watch in a large group. Mercedes was pushing for a horror movie she swore wasn’t too scary. Felix and Linhardt’s roommates wanted to watch an action movie. Linhardt just wanted to watch a musical.

Eventually, everyone turned toward Leonie.

“Well, you’re the guest!” Dimitri chirped, “We should ask you what you should like to watch.”

Leonie laughed nervously, clearing her throat when she realized that they were not going to let her avoid suggesting anything. 

“I’m kind of a loud explosion type,” Leonie said. She couldn’t help but grin when she heard Linhardt’s roommate cheer. Felix set up the movie, everybody getting comfortable and waiting for the movie to start.

Leonie couldn’t help but watch everybody sitting amongst each other. She found herself caught up in how affectionate they all were. Claude’s hand was soft against Dimitri’s cheek as Linhardt laid their head in their roommate’s lap. Even Bernadetta, who always appeared slightly nervous, was contently sitting next to Claude and Dimitri on the bed, gasping at the right times with the movie.

It was strange. Leonie didn’t feel like she was bringing much to the situation, but she felt comfortable. 

“Oh!” Dimitri exclaimed halfway through the movie, “I’m a horrendous host! I forgot to ask if anyone wanted anything!” He sprang off the bed, walking toward the microfridge propped up near the window. All he really had to offer was water in a Brita filter and pretzels, but Leonie appreciated it nonetheless.

“Why is everything in… hockey cups…” she asked, turning each plastic cup around. They all had dates from a variety of playoff games for a local team.

“My dad has season tickets,” he mumbled, “He takes me a lot.”

“Oh, cool. I’ve never been to a hockey game before,” she confessed.

“Well, I am unsure when I could get tickets, but I’m sure I could ask my father to spare them one game,” Dimitri said.

Leonie stared at him for a brief moment, her mouth hanging open. “Are you being serious?” she asked.

Dimitri nodded. “Well, yes.”

She blinked several times. “Huh,” she said, “You all are… kind of way too nice, you know that?”

Dimitri stared at her for a long moment. She wondered if she had been rude and that she was going to have to sheepishly leave the dorm and hope they never showed up at her place of work ever again. 

“Perhaps,” Dimitri said, “But I suppose I would rather be too nice than too cruel.”

Leonie opened her mouth and quickly closed her mouth. “I mean… fair enough,” she said. She quickly looked away from him, bringing the water to her mouth and chewing on the rim of the cup. “Thank you to all of you,” she added, “I… I don’t get to do this type of stuff.”

“Then we’ll have to do this again!” Mercedes exclaimed, “Oh, Claude, we should have Leonie join our group chat!”

“You all have a group chat?” Leonie asked. She was about to reveal that she was never in a friend group chat, but she resisted showcasing such a vulnerability.

“Yeah,” Claude said, “If you got Facebook Messenger, I can help you get set up!” 

Leonie grinned, grabbing her phone and working with Claude to get invited. “Trans Chat?” she asked. She posted a hello and watched everyone react to it, ranging from sending hearts, sending hellos, and thumbs up. She couldn’t help but smile. Her body was tingling, nearly overwhelmed by how much contact she was being granted tonight.

“The title is a work in progress,” Claude said, “I’m up for suggestions.”

“We’ve given you suggestions,” Felix snapped, his arms crossed and his eyes still focused on the movie.

“Yeah, and they were all garbage,” Claude sniped back, quickly hiding behind Dimitri as Felix threw a wrapper of some sort at him.

“I’m sure you all can come up with something,” Leonie said. She was relieved, realizing that it was the first time all night that she said something and wasn’t worried that she crossed some kind of line. 

“Well, you’re a part of it, too,” Claude pointed out, “So don’t hold back on any suggestions, too.”

Leonie smiled. “I’ll see what I can come up with!” she exclaimed, grateful that the room was dark enough that no one could see her eyes tearing up. Thankfully, a well timed explosion flashed across the TV and everyone yelled. Leonie included.


End file.
